


stardust

by vindicatedtruth (behindtintedglass)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-09-13 15:20:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16895082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/behindtintedglass/pseuds/vindicatedtruth
Summary: A continuous collection of how the Enterprise crew seeks to understand the universe—and perhaps, in the process, come to understand each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be an ongoing collection of all the ficlets I've been writing: snapshots of scenes of their lives, a peek into their thoughts, and a glimpse of their hearts. 
> 
> The stories may or may not be related, may be connected or may occur in different universes. They're all different sides of the same crew, the same family, and most of all—the same love.

 

 

It had been an adrenaline-fuelled question, full of fear and trepidation and doubt, and Leonard remembers the answer he gave then, certain and grave.

_“If Spock were here and I were there, what would he do?”_

_“He’d let you die.”_

Now, he looks at the way Spock is gazing at Jim—their Captain, their _friend—_ prone and weak lying on what they had all thought was already his deathbed, and who is now miraculously, against all odds, _alive._

He remembers, suddenly, the first day they met, the cool, almost arrogant way Spock raised an eyebrow at Jim as he made what Leonard had thought back then was an emotionless, cold declaration:

_“You of all people should know, Cadet Kirk: a Captain cannot cheat death.”_

He looks at the way Spock is standing over _his_ Captain now, his stance rigid and ramrod straight, always ready for duty, always ready for command, and yet his eyes… Spock’s eyes are _tender_.  As soft and as warm as the smile playing across Jim’s lips as he gazes up at his First Officer with naked adoration—to which Spock, Leonard is amused to observe, seems oblivious. 

Leonard shakes his head and quietly slips out of medbay, certain that his absence isn’t and won’t be noticed.  Not when those two look at each other as if there’s no one else in the universe but them.

As if nothing else matters, as long as they’re together.

He thinks of the impossible that’s been achieved by Spock, of the new blood and new life coursing through Jim’s veins now _because_ of Spock, and a small smile quirks Leonard’s lips.

Indeed, it is true that a Captain cannot cheat death.

But for him, his First Officer _will_.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

It is a curious sensation—like a blade is twisting straight through his heart.

Spock fights the minute trembling of his hand as it presses against his torso, where his heart is, of course, logically still beating. It has no business aching as it does at the sight of his Captain.

Especially when he is looking at Doctor Carol Marcus like that.

The rigid lines of command seem to fascinatingly soften whenever he’s around her—his rough edges gentling, his aura brightening, a weight lifting from his shoulders.

He supposes, from an objective standpoint, that they are undeniably a well-suited match. The Captain’s proficiency in strategical diplomacy and tactical command is complemented by her unparalleled knowledge in advanced weaponry; her proficiency in the physical sciences makes her a fitting colleague to Doctor McCoy as well, one that the Chief Medical Officer has no reservations informing anyone within earshot.

Spock envies the Lieutenant Commander’s easy camaraderie with her, and her uncanny ability to make the Captain open up the way he never does to—

—to Spock.

He presses harder against the persisting ache by his side. He once thought that he had already healed from this kind of pain, having gone through it twice in his lifetime already—once when T’Pring declared him too emotional, and again when Nyota informed him that he was too logical.

He misses them both dearly, as the dissolution of their bonds left him with a void that no one else can ever fill, but for a time, the ache was tempered by the gentle healing of his Captain’s steady presence and ardent friendship.

It is curious to now discover that the Captain has become the source of both his healing and his pain—his antidote and his toxin at the same time.

No, Spock tells himself firmly, that is illogical—his Captain can be nothing more than an elixir of life and kindness.

If anything, it is Spock’s own traitorous heart that is killing him.

 

* * *

 

“I better get back to work,” Kirk says sheepishly to Marcus, scratching behind his head as he bashfully ducks his gaze. “I’ve taken up enough of your time with my babbling.”

Marcus merely gives him a wry smile. “When I joined your ship, Captain, I didn’t think being your relationship counsellor would be one of my duties.”

Kirk snorts. “What relationship? The one in my head?”

She nudges his shoulder teasingly with hers. “The one you would like to begin with your ridiculously hot First Officer.”

“Hey,” Kirk playfully protests, “don’t do that, I found him first.”

“Well if you don’t do anything soon,” she gentles, tone turning serious, “he would never be yours.”

Kirk looks away then. “I would never…” he trails off, breath catching, as always, at the sight of his First Officer at his station, gaze attuned with laser-light focus on the latest data that has arrested his concentration, and Kirk feels his chest _ache_ in both wonder and yearning at being the object of his First Officer’s undivided attention.

Marcus seems to have followed his gaze and she clears her throat pointedly. Kirk looks back at her with a sad smile.

“I would never… presume to claim someone who doesn’t want to be mine.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

**_H_** ** _ere I am staring at your reflection_**  
**_In my arms, so beautiful_**  
**_The sky is getting bright, the stars are burning out_**  
**_Somebody slow it down_**  
_**This is way too hard, ‘cause I know**_  
**_When the sun comes up, I will leave  
_ _This is my last glance that will soon be memory_**

 

* * *

 

Kirk doesn’t know how Ambassador Spock did it for ninety-four years.

He watches the way the starlight plays over _his_ Spock’s features—weathered with the age of two hundred years—and he cannot imagine living without this.

“Jim,” his bondmate of nearly two centuries whispers. “Go to sleep.”

Kirk swallows back the lump in his throat. “I can’t,” he very nearly chokes.

Spock looks up at him and reaches out a hand to cup his cheek. Kirk catches the wrinkled hand on his still-smooth face, noting the difference; for the very first time, he questions whether Khan’s blood running in his veins is a blessing or a curse, as he finds himself in the unthinkable predicament of having their roles suddenly reversed.

Suddenly, it’s Kirk who lives longer—way longer than a human is supposed to, past the lifespan of Vulcans.

And now… _he’s_ the one who’s going to have to learn to live without _this._

“Jim,” his husband of nearly two centuries softly entreats, “you need to rest.”

“No,” he says stubbornly, and Spock really should have known by now how immovable he is when he sets his _mind_ to something—what more his _heart._ “I… I can’t. I have to—“

_Hold you while I still can. Hold you while you still have life in you and I have breath in me._

_Because tomorrow we both now I won’t have either, anymore._

He doesn’t say it out loud—he _can’t_ —and Spock hears it all anyway.

“Then hold me,” he acquiesces, as he always does—a Captain’s loyal First Officer, even after all this time. “Hold me… until I can’t hold you back anymore.”

 

* * *

 

 

**_And when the daylight comes, I’ll have to go_**  
_**But tonight I’m gonna hold you so close**_  
_**‘Cause in the daylight we’ll be on our own**  
_ **_But tonight I need to hold you so close_**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Daylight" by Maroon 5.


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

 **_I don’t know you  
_ ** **_But I want you all the more for that_ **

 

He finds Spock on the viewing deck.

He takes a deep breath and approaches him, making sure to let his presence known, so that he can immediately leave if it’s unwanted.

He sees Spock incline his head as he stands beside him. Kirk lets out the breath he’s been nervously holding when Spock merely looks back up at the stars.

“It has never occurred to me until now how vast the universe truly is. Nearly six billion inhabitants have died, and it barely makes a dent in the grand scheme of things.”

Kirk notes the tightening of Spock’s hands as he clasps them behind his back. His gaze flickers up toSpock’s features, noting how the starlight casts an incandescent glow on his pale skin.

He looks otherworldly. Beautiful. Unattainable.

Like a lonely god.

 

 **_Falling slowly, eyes that know me  
_ ** **_And I can’t go back_ **

 

“I never thanked you,” Kirk starts softly, hesitantly. “For saving the Earth.”

Spock looks at him. Those eyes are entirely too human. “It is not an entirely altruistic action. It is my only home left.”

The words are dispassionate, neutral, but Kirk knows—intimately, through the Ambassador’s mind—the emotions that power them, deep and beguiling.

Dangerous.

Kirk swallows. He has always _loved_ danger.

 

 ** _You have suffered enough_**  
**_And warred with yourself  
_ ** **_It’s time that you won_**

 

“And I never apologised for provoking you on the bridge,” he continues quietly, looking away, shame and guilt and something else he can’t name filling him with unease.

With _yearning._

Spock stiffens. “I believe it is I who owes you an apology, Captain, for the blatant disrespect I displayed in assaulting you—”

“—is because I blatantly disrespected you by falsely accusing you of being unfeeling.”

Spock clicks his mouth shut, and the wry grin Kirk shoots his way softens into a gentle smile. “We both know that’s patently untrue.”

Something _breaks_ in his eyes, and Spock averts his gaze. Kirk lets him, knowing by now how deeply protective Vulcans are of their privacy.

 _Let me protect it for you_ , the thought comes unbidden, strange and strong.

He looks back up at the stars, and vows that the universe will not lose the only half-Vulcan, half-human in existence.

 _Let me protect_ **_you_** _._

 

 **_Take this sinking boat and point it home  
_ ** **_We still got time._ **

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Falling Slowly" by Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová.


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

The human body takes seven years to grow completely new skin cells. As I am only half-human, and Vulcan biology extends that lifespan, my cells regenerate at a much faster pace, taking no more than two point three years to completely regenerate and delay ageing for much longer.

It had only taken two point three years for me to grow into a body you have never touched.

I clasp my fingers around the necklace you have given me. Inside it contains your image and your voice, although I do not need it to remember you.

I remember every intricate, joyful, painful detail. It is the curse of having an eidetic memory.

Perhaps it is the reason why I have carried this with me, always. Why I have worn it beneath my clothes, resting on my skin that has finally wrinkled, now that I am nearing two centuries of age.

It is illogical, but… I somehow cannot fathom a body that does not know your touch.

Ninety-four years I have carried you, Jim. Ninety-four years I have carried on without you. Ninety-four years too long.

You are never a burden, _ashayam_ , and yet I somehow feel… _lighter_ , knowing that it is now my younger self who will carry you.

He accepts the necklace with both confusion and fascination. I stifle a smirk; his emotionless mask does not fool me, for he and I are one and the same, after all. I can see clearly in his eyes the tempered yearning as he watches you, listens to you singing for us. For him.

He craves you. Just as I crave you, still.

My younger self does not know your touch yet. But he will, soon, and… I cannot find it in myself to envy the fact that he will know your touch much earlier than I had.

Your younger self craves him, too. I have seen it in the way his gaze is always arrested by my younger self’s presence whenever he walks into the room. Your younger self  _wants_  him, even though he does not fully understand why just yet. 

I may have cheated, after all. Your mind recognised its bondmate as soon as we melded, and sought completion as soon as it recognised its _t’hy’la_.

My younger self disapproves of this… circumvention. He has yet to learn how to do it himself. No matter, he will know soon enough—you have already began teaching him.

He will come to realise that some things are worth cheating for. You once cheated death for me, after all. I do not regret doing the same, not when it comes to this. I have lived ninety-four years without you. I will not take away the chance for my younger self to have you to himself for much, much longer than I have.

We are different in this universe. You are much more passionate; I am much more reserved. We have yet to grow into the softness and stability of our adulthood, when you are tempered by my rationality, and I am eased by your effusiveness.

It is fascinating to see how you and I had been before we have known each other. It is only now, in watching the younger versions of ourselves, that I realise that we were both so incredibly lonely.

I do not regret giving our younger selves that happiness—that completion—long before you and I have known it in our own lives. Our own universe.

You have taught me that the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many. And this—this is what you and I have always needed.

Each other.

We have been, and always shall be, t’hy’la.

It will always be worth cheating for.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

He remembers his own cool declaration during the academic tribunal: _You of all people should know, Cadet Kirk: A Captain cannot cheat death._

He looks at Jim now, and illogically wills him to prove him wrong once more.

Jim has always managed to achieve the impossible: surely this is one more thing the legendary Captain Kirk can do?

 _One more miracle, for me,_  Spock’s heart insists. _Please, please live for me._

 _“_ I’m scared, Spock,” Jim whispers, and _no no no_  this isn’t what Spock wants— _needs—_ to hear from him.

Jim seeks his gaze, and Spock feels his own heart _breaking_ at the hopelessness reflected back at him.

“How do you choose not to feel?”

The tears spring to Spock’s eyes, unbidden: he has never once cried for his planet, his people—never even cried for his own mother, and he _loved_ her beyond all measure.

He cries for Jim now.

“I do not know,” he trembles. “Right now I am failing.”

_Prove me wrong, Captain. Please, please prove me wrong._

He watches Jim take a deep, shuddering breath, and his mind races into a panic: _Jim is about to say his last words_ , and no no no, how can Spock run this ship without him? How can Spock serve another Captain that is not him?

How can Spock _live without him_?

“I want you to know why I couldn’t let you die.” Jim is dying, but he is _smiling_ , and this stupid illogical human cannot possibly be happy to _leave him._

The tears fall freely down his face, and Spock cannot find it in himself to be ashamed.

For Jim, he embraces his human side, his human emotions, his human _heart_ freely.

“Because you are my friend.”

 _T’hy’la_ burns on the tip of his tongue. Vulcans cannot lie. 

He cannot lie to Jim, even now.

Jim looks at him, smiles, and finally—his hand slides lifelessly from the glass. 

His eyes remain horribly open, as if Jim is determined for Spock to be the last vision he sees before death claims him.

Spock waits for several seconds more—waits for Jim to overcome the impossible, for the _miracle_ that Jim has always been capable.

Jim’s eyes aren’t looking at him anymore.

 

 


End file.
